


You Always Find Friends (In Unexpected Places)

by Red_Tigress



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bonding, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers for Cullen's Storyline, Spoilers for Dorian's Storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Tigress/pseuds/Red_Tigress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian isn't sure how he'll fit into the Inquistion. He gains an unlikely friend one afternoon in the completely unexpected Commander Cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Always Find Friends (In Unexpected Places)

**Author's Note:**

> So, some of my interpretations about Cullen specifically are just that-interpretations based on some of his dialogue in DA:I. I didn't play II. Still, I hope you enjoy this. I love both Dorian and Cullen dearly, and could imagine some great banter between them should the need arise, but also a deep friendship. HUGE thanks to Meskeet for betaing this.

Dorian wouldn’t admit it if anyone asked him. Dorian Pavus? Playing games with a Ferelden Templar? How terribly unheard of.

 

Upon first meeting him, Cullen had glanced him over with a sharp eye, and more than a little suspicion. Of course, that could have been because of the army of mages he and the Herald were dragging behind them. Still, it was a sharp dismissal, and it was so ordinary for Dorian he hadn’t spared the man a second thought except “He’ll be a massive hindrance, later.”

 

Days later, they all searched frantically through the snow for any sign of the Herald in snow that was knee-deep and against blinding winds that stung their faces. Wounded soldiers sagged in the snow, mages exhausting themselves trying to clear the way.

 

They were all perilously close to dying. No food, little shelter, and even less hope.

 

Dorian pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he watched Commander Cullen, seemingly impervious to the wind, stand at the edge of the camp for hours. He stared in the direction of Haven.

 

“He needs to believe,” a voice said from behind him. His neck strained as he turned his head to look at Vivienne, standing behind him.

 

“We all hope the Herald’s alive, of course,” Dorian replied a little peevishly.

 

Vivienne took a slow glance at him from over her cheekbones without moving her head, before her eyes moved back to Cullen in the snow. “He needs to believe his cause is just. Perhaps more than any of us. He’s been terribly wrong before.”

 

“Maybe if Ferelden didn’t treat its mages like prisoners,” Dorian said sourly.

 

“You have a lot to learn, my dear.” With a swish of her skirts, Vivienne spun and walked away.

 

Dorian turned back around, grimacing. He did not like that woman.

 

A shout sounded, making Dorian snap his head up. Cullen and Cassandra were running into the dark, calling for help. Dorian stood, but there were already other people rushing forward. Cullen and Cassandra came back into the light of the camp, carrying someone between them.

 

It was the Herald.

 

Dorian gasped. His heart felt lighter, and he suddenly couldn’t keep a smile off his face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone settled into a routine quickly at Skyhold. Most of the mages had set up some kind of temporary office in the main tower. Vivienne had claimed the entire balcony area for herself, arguing she needed space to work as per circle regulations. Solas set up a desk downstairs, where a painter was slowly painting the walls in a beautiful rendition of the events that the Breach started. Dorian found his own nook in the library.

 

People had been avoiding him and at first he thought it was because he was a mage, but other mages were avoiding him as well. His nook offered privacy, and no one ever came looking for him, except occasionally the Inquisitor when she made her rounds. He wasn’t bothered, and no one bothered him.

 

“You should get out more,” the Inquisitor told him one day. He looked up from a book to see her leaning against a bookshelf.

 

“I do get out, with you! Or have you forgotten already how many demons and apostates we’ve killed this week?”

 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I meant out of this dusty library. It can’t be good for your lungs. Solas goes for walks often, and even Vivienne spends time each day in the garden. What’s your excuse?”

 

Dorian rolled his eyes, snapping the book shut. The Inquisitor must have heard the same rumors he had. Tevinter blood mage, warping her thoughts.

 

“I’d rather not invite more controversy into my life than I already have.”

 

She smirked. “By taking a walk? Enjoying the garden? Visiting the horses?”

 

“Horses, are you mad? How do you think smelling like a farm animal would do anything to improve my reputation?” He made a disgusted face.

 

She gave a small laugh, and sighed, staring at him. He tried not to squirm. After all, this was the woman who had faced down multiple nightmares and lived. Her power made him at least a little nervous.

 

“I know things have been hard for you, Dorian. Everyone’s had a hard time. Maybe you could even find a new friend.” She smirked again. “Besides me, I mean.”

 

Dorian gave a dramatic sigh and threw his head back. “Fine, fine! Maybe I’ll deign to walk amongst the commoners for an hour or two. Happy?”

 

She just smiled and disappeared.

 

Dorian sighed dramatically again, and put the book he had been reading under his chair. He stood, taking a minute to compose himself.

 

He stepped into the hallway.

 

He held his chin high as he walked purposefully, but quickly, down the stairs. He passed through Solas’ study, but the Elf didn’t even look up, engaged in a text he was reading.

 

He opened the door to the Great Hall and for a moment, imagined every pair of eyes was on him. While normally he might enjoy such a luxury, at Skyhold it still felt entirely too intimate. He moved through the small crowd, catching snippets of conversation. Everything from someone found a barrel of knives, to Sera chasing the cook out of the kitchen. He snickered at the last one.

 

He heard the word Teivinter a few times, but he didn’t stick around long enough to find out if the whispers were about him or just his country. Maybe both. No one approached him directly, but Dorian fought to keep from flinching every time someone took a step in his direction. The Inquisitor wasn’t there, what if-

 

He angrily shook his head.He didn’t need the Inquisitor’s protection.. He could stand up for himself. Still, it was a relief when he made it to the front doors of the Hall and stepped out into the chilly, but bright and clean air.

 

He inhaled sharply, taking in the feelings of his lungs expanding, and the muffled calm, conversations dispersed by the mountain air instead of contained and echoing around a stone hallway. The tension eased from his shoulders and he walked down the steps.

 

He found an unoccupied table with two seats and a chess board in a shady area. It was up against a wall, so he could watch the comings and goings of the courtyard without being too imposing. Even though it was cool in the shade, he enjoyed the temperature. He wasn’t sure when he had become so accustomed to the hot stuffiness of the library. He closed his eyes, listening to the birds and the distant clang of practice swords, feeling at peace for the first time in days.

 

His peace was shortly interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open from somewhere up on the battlements. He opened one eye curiously, and saw the (for lack of a better term) bushy form of Cullen stumble into the sunlight. He also thought he might have seen an arm that was the Inquisitor’s pull back inside his office and slam the door. He chuckled, closing his eye again.

 

Maybe about ten minutes later, he heard the clanking of armor approaching and opened his eyes. It was Cullen, looking unsure of himself.

 

“Uh...may I join you?”

 

Dorian sat up straighter, indicating the other chair. “Please. The Inquisitor kick you out of your dusty muskhole too?”

 

“I’m sorry?” Cullen furrowed his brow.

 

Dorian suppressed a chuckle. “The library,” he clarified. “But I assume with your office and the holes I can clearly see in the foundation it’s less musty and more ‘there’s plants actually growing in the corners’.”

 

“Ah,” Cullen said, catching on. “You’d be right about that. She said I didn’t get enough sunlight. I said ‘What are you talking about, there’s a hole in the ceiling! I get all the sunlight I need!’”

 

Dorian gave a minute shake of his head and made a ‘tsk’ noise. “There’s just no pleasing some people.”

 

“Indeed.” Cullen glanced at the board. “Do you play?” he asked Dorian, nodding towards the pieces.

 

Dorian paused. He had spent days back in his home in Tevinter playing the game with his father or sister. Back before…

 

“I may be a little rusty,” he said, shaking the thought from his mind.

 

“That’s alright. Running from demon lords and trying to mobilize an army hasn’t left me with a lot of free time either,” Cullen replied, setting up the board.

 

“Did you play much, at the Circle?”

 

Cullen looked up. “Are you trying to deduce whether I was so busy subduing mages if I had time to play chess?”

 

“Nothing of the sort,” Dorian replied easily, making the first move. “You may ask me of my espionage I perform for the Tevinter empire, if you wish.”

 

Cullen snorted, moving a piece to counter. “I guess there’s a lot of that going around isn’t there?”

 

“What do you think of me?” Dorian asked.

 

Cullen leaned back in his chair, observing both Dorian and the board. “The Inquisitor speaks highly of you, and I trust her.”

 

“Ah-ah,” Dorian said moving his knight. “I asked what you thought.”

 

“Someone who cares,” Cullen answered bluntly.

 

Dorian tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?”

 

“The Imperium has a lot of issues. Some, rather serious as evidenced by the events in Kirkwall. Maybe...one of the reasons you left is because of that?”

 

Dorian nodded.

 

“But you want it to be better. Or else you wouldn’t defend it so much. You care about the people of the Empire, you care about your homeland.” Cullen moved a piece.

 

“That’s very astute of you, Commander,” Dorian said, actually somewhat impressed.

 

“Let’s just say, I know a little about what that’s like.”

 

“On a much smaller scale, I hope,” Dorian chuckled. He studied the board. “Damn, maybe I’m more rusty than I thought.”

 

“Don’t worry about it too much. Another?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, Dorian was wandering outside when he found Cullen already sitting at the chess board. He motioned towards the table, lifting one shoulder. Dorian slid into the chair across from him.

 

“Heading to Crestwood soon?” Cullen asked.

 

Dorian nodded. The Inquisitor had received a report that rogue templars were running a red lyrium mining operation there. He felt dizzy just at the prospect of going anywhere near the stuff.

 

“I hope you’ll all be careful,” Cullen said, anxiety seeping into his voice. Dorian had no doubt Cullen knew exactly what was waiting for them out there.

 

“Worried about little old me? I’m touched,” Dorian said, starting the game.

 

“Worried about all of you. And yes, that includes you. Despite what you may have heard, I do care about mages.”

 

Dorian had heard whispers of the ex-Templar commander, who had argued to free Templars instead of mages, who wanted to keep them all under their thumb or let them die to Tevinters.

 

“What I’ve heard doesn’t equal truth. I’m a Tevinter Spy who also practices blood magic, remember?”

 

“Hmm, I should have a word with Lelianna then. What an oversight.” Cullen gave a small smile.

 

Dorian ended up losing, but not as badly that time. He stood, pushing in his chair. “When I come back, I’ll beat you. Maker knows even my infinite bounds of self-esteem can’t take much more of this.”

 

Cullen leaned forward, touching his fingertips together and raising an eyebrow. “Then I look forward to our rematch. Until then, safe journey.”

 

Dorian gave him a little flourish and a bow. It was only as he was walking back to his quarters, that he realized no one had said that to him before.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Crestwood had been...strange. One drowned village and a few demons and red templars later, and they were on their way home. Dorian had never been so wet. They had even seen a dragon, though it was safely observed from a safe distance and since Iron Bull wasn’t with them, no one else had exactly been chomping at the bit to try and take it on.

 

The smell of dank caves and moldy corpses also lingered on his clothes. He scrubbed his skin hard in the bath, before taking his clothing to the launderer. Everyone gave him a wider berth than usual. It would take a few hours for the special treatment, he was informed, so he decided to kill time in the courtyard. He never would have said it six months ago, but he welcomed the fresh, mountain air. It was a wonderful change from the mouldy lake town they’d just returned from.

 

He wasn’t that surprised to find Cullen waiting for him at their usual spot. “Don’t you have work?” Dorian smirked, sitting down.

 

“I’ll have you know, I worked tirelessly the week and a half you all were gone in addition to this morning.”

 

“For shame. Don’t you have any other friends?” Dorian meant it as a joke, but he grimaced when Cullen looked down and rubbed one finger at the corner of his eye. “All I’m saying,” he rushed on, “Is that people will start saying the Vint blood mage has brainwashed not only our dear Inquisitor, but her Commander as well. I would hate to be responsible for sullying your reputation.”

 

“I don’t think you’re worried about sullying anyone’s reputation but your own,” Cullen drawled, moving his piece.

 

“Ack! You wound me. Speaking of wounding, the Inquisitor thought it would be funny to read out loud one of Varric’s novels on the trip. I’ve never had a stronger aversion to literature than I did in this week.” Dorian studied the board, taking time to plan his next move.

 

Cullen leaned back, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Oh? I have heard they’re quite bad. But also extraordinary. How is it that some people are able to find something they know is deliberately bad, enjoyable?”

 

Dorian shook his head. “Truly it’s incidents like Hard in Hightown that start actual culture wars.”

 

“I think Varric is proud of that.”

 

“Oh, undoubtedly so!” Dorian moved his knight.

 

“So what do you read instead?” Cullen asked.

 

“History,” Dorian puffed up his chest proudly. “Ancient power struggles are a trait inherent of all races, all countries. I find it utterly fascinating. I never thought I’d be in a position to actually witness it.”

 

“Well, that’s one silver lining of this whole Corypheus business I suppose,” Cullen said. “Though we all could still end up dead.”

 

“Well in that case, I suppose I’ll be too dead to care. Come to think of it, I was just having this conversation with someone…” Dorian trailed off, rubbing his chin, as Cullen countered his move. “What about you? Please don’t say you only read The Chant of Light.”

 

Cullen chuckled. “Well, I don’t read much for pleasure these days, but I do enjoy personal accounts. Of all sorts. Mages, knights, kings, farmers…” he waved his hand vaguely. “That sort of thing.”

 

“Ah, the autobiographical sort, I see.”

 

Cullen stretched. “I liked reading about things people experience in their own words.”

 

Dorian looked up at him, but Cullen was studying the board. Dorian imagined a young templar eagerly talking to mages, asking them about their experiences, asking about their day in passing, striking up conversation easily and often. Now he saw a hurt man, who instead turned to books.

 

It was all too familiar.

 

Dorian actually won the game that day, rolling his eyes as Cullen clapped him on the shoulder. (“Honestly, I don’t need congratulations from the likes of you,” he teased). It was a good thing Dorian could enjoy his small victory, because three days later he was heading out with the Inquisitor’s party to the Storm Coast.

 

He was stabbed in the shoulder with a dirty blade.

 

At first it was nothing.He was finishing the fight, sending flames to wash over the man who stabbed him. The next thing he could recall was a hazy memory of him banging around in the back of a wagon, his shoulder throbbing and pain lancing up and down his arm and through his chest. He remembered the Inquisitor’s face hovering over him with worry, Cole at her side and rambling. Cole had reached out a hand towards him, but the Inquisitor caught it swiftly but gently, lowering it. Dorian moaned, turning on his side.

 

He woke up, and was lying in his own bed. His shoulder still throbbed, but it was dull and distant. He was wrapped in clean bandages. And, of all people, Cullen was sitting by his bedside, a folded up chessboard clutched in his hands.

 

Dorian moaned and Cullen glanced up. “What...happened?”

 

“You were injured on the Storm Coast. The wound became infected. I think Vivienne tried her best to heal you out there, but she couldn’t get to you for some time and infection is a tricky thing. Or so I am told. You were lucky they got you back here in time. How much do you remember?” Cullen leaned forward, taking a glass of water from Dorian’s bedside table and offering it to him.

 

Dorian pushed himself up on his good arm, trembling with the effort, and took a sip. Once his throat was quenched, he settled back against the pillow, and Cullen set the glass back on the nightstand. “Barely anything,” he admitted.

 

“You had a pretty severe fever,” Cullen said softly. “It may have wiped out some of your memories. You were...saying things.”

 

Dorian moved his forearm over his eyes, not wanting to look at Cullen as he felt his face heat up with shame.

 

“Did...did your father really do those things to you? With blood magic?”

 

Dorian could once again feel the cold shackles on his skin, watching the man he thought he knew, he thought he loved, staring down at him with a cold indifference as magic flared to life around his hands. He felt terror seize his heart, painful and unforgiving.

 

“Forgive me,” Cullen said rapidly. “It is...not my place to ask.”

 

Dorian moved his forearm from over his eyes, but continued to stare at the ceiling. “He did, yes.”

 

“I’m sorry. That must...I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I don’t think any less of you. In fact, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve met. And…” he rubbed his thumb over the folded up chess board. “I understand, maybe a little, about why you left.”

 

Dorian snorted. “It was a myriad of reasons. My family’s affinity for blood magic to try and change who I am was only the crowning jewel.” Dorian turned his head slightly to see that Cullen was staring at him with sadness, and maybe a little apprehension. “Fancy a game?” He said, nodding towards the board. “Not sure how long I can stay awake for it.”

 

Cullen smiled, unfolding the board on the bed within easy reach of Dorian’s hand. The pieces were smaller and less detailed than what they normally used. They were quiet while they played, content for once, in a companionable silence that Dorian found comforting and the first he’d shared with anyone in a long while. It only took about half an hour for Dorian to flag and Cullen to quietly pack up the pieces, leaving him to rest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dorian felt well enough to walk around Skyhold two days later. Instead of going to his space in the library, he found himself yearning for fresh air. The Inquisitor had already taken a group of people and returned to the Storm Coast, so the courtyard was quieter than usual. He had also hoped to find Cullen outside, but the man wasn’t around. He had said he generally worked harder when the Inquisitor wasn’t around.

 

He climbed the stairs to the battlements, the effort leaving him slightly more winded than he would have liked to admit. His muscles ached from days of disuse and he took a minute to catch his breath as he looked out over the mountains. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself to stave off the biting wind that was so much more prominent up here.

 

He shuffled over to the solid oaken door that was the entrance to Cullen’s office tower. He raised his hand to knock, but paused.

 

This was stupid, bothering Cullen. They’d only bonded over chess, he had no reason to believe Cullen wanted him in other parts of his life. But still...Cullen had visited him when he was recovering.

 

He was about to turn around, when he heard a loud thump from inside, followed by the sound of some kind of metal hitting the stone floor. “Cullen?” Dorian pushed the door open.

 

Cullen was on his hands and knees next to the ladder, convulsing as he vomited a thin stream of bile. Dorian rushed over as he saw his arms shaking and caught him right before he fell into his own vomit. The commander was shaking and pale with sweat running down his face. Dorian pulled him over to a chair and helped him into it. Cullen flopped bonelessly in the seat, shoving his head into the back of the chair. Dorian got on his knees on the floor, putting his hands over Cullen’s wrists on the arm rests. “Cullen? Speak to me,” he insisted.

 

“Ly-lyrium,” Cullen breathed out. “Stopped...taking…” Cullen’s eyes glanced over to his desk. Dorian turned around, noticing the full vials, glowing a gentle, deceptive blue.

 

“Oh, Cullen,” Dorian breathed softly, helpless to do anything against the tremors that wracked his body. Dorian could guess why he was stopping taking it, despite the harm he knew it would cause his body. Cullen had made more than a few illusions as to how he regretted some things that happened at both the Ferelden and Kirkwall Circles.

 

Templars didn’t want to be slaves to the Chantry any more than mages did.

 

Dorian looked with dismay at the ladder that led up to Cullen’s loft. He assumed the thump he heard was Cullen falling from the ladder. There was no way he’d get him up there now.  And he’d be damned if he let Cullen ride out the next few hours of this in his drafty, musty, cold stone office.

 

He hefted Cullen out of the chair and threw the other man’s arm around his own neck. It was a sign of how out of shape Cullen was that he didn’t protest. Dorian’s legs did protest however as they both shuffled forward at a slow pace. “Maker, how much armor do you need in your own fortress?” Growled Dorian. Cullen wasn’t light even without the armor (he had seen how thickly muscled the man was), and his asinine insistence on wearing full armor almost all of the time was definitely not helping the situation. “And people call me vain.” He kicked open the door that led to the walkway to the circle tower. “At least I’m not wearing-” he panted, “a 20 pound dead animal...around my neck!”

 

Cullen moaned slightly.

 

“Yes you’re right,” Dorian gritted his teeth, walking forward. “I’m sure women are very attracted to your taxidermy skills. ‘Oh Commander, do take me to your bear cave where you have slaughtered my supper and we may rummage around in the skins of your ursine foes!’ How positively archaic.”

 

Cullen, it seemed, had understood enough of what he was saying to turn his head and glare sharply at him, making Dorian snicker, before he cleared his throat. “Right, you are in pain. My apologies, I have forgotten myself in my attempt to ridicule your fashion choices. Do excuse the oversight.” By that time, they had reached the door to the circle tower and Cullen was flagging. Dorian wrenched open the door. Solas, it seemed, had gone with the Inquisitor which meant there was an unoccupied bed that they didn’t have to go up or down any stairs to get to.

 

Cullen collapsed into it, curling in on himself and shaking so badly Dorian thought he could hear his teeth rattle. Dorian began sliding pieces of his armor off so that Cullen didn’t roll over onto metal.

 

“I’m...I’m sorry…” Cullen ground out.

 

“Don’t be sorry, you idiot,” Dorian said softly, taking a small hand towel from a washbasin nearby and placing it gently on Cullen’s forehead. “You’ll get through this. It’s very admirable, what you’re doing. Considering how long you’ve been taking lyrium.”

 

Cullen whimpered slightly, curling in on himself more. Dorian couldn’t do more than offer kind words and gentle touches. He could only watch as his friend’s body betrayed him. Cullen seemed to become unaware of his presences as time went on, muttering or moaning in pain, eyes jammed shut. At times, Dorian felt invasive, but if it were him, he’d want someone watching over him. So he stayed.

 

The sun had just set, the last rays of painting the sky outside a deep red, when there was a deep sigh from the bed. Cullen opened tired eyes, and Dorian was ready with a glass of water.

 

“Gently,” he told Cullen. “Don’t upset your stomach more.” Cullen took a few sips before he fell back in the bed.

 

“Thank you,” he said. “For...for everything.”

 

“Who else knows?” Dorian asked.

 

“Cassandra. Lelianna. The Inquisitor. You.”

 

“I...see,” Dorian said slowly. “You could have told me sooner, you know.”

 

“What would that have done?” Cullen said bitterly.

 

“I might have been able to help you sooner!” Dorian spat. “Instead of finding you collapsed and vomiting all over your floor. Or have you forgotten about that?”

 

Cullen flushed a deep shade of red, turning away angrily.

 

Dorian shut his eyes and covered his face with a hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just...scared.” Cullen turned back curiously. “You’re one of my only friends in this place. I’m scared for you.”

 

“I didn’t think...blood mages had friends,” Cullen smiled wryly.

 

“Yes, well, I know at least one templar scum who’s about to lose a friend the next time he calls me a blood mage!” Dorian said sarcastically. Cullen gave a weak chuckle, making Dorian smile. “Rest here for a while. I’ll tell Lelianna you’re indisposed for the rest of the evening.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You don’t have to do this alone. Please remember that.”

 

Cullen paused, before giving him a small smile. “I appreciate that, Dorian. The feeling is...mutual.”

 

Dorian smiled, before he left the room, making his way up to Lelianna’s loft.

 

A Teivinter mage friends with a Ferelden Templar. Maybe there was hope for the world after all.

 

 


End file.
